


Terrible Creatures

by lipsstainedbloodred



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Archived From Tumblr, Character Death Implied, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, archived from cigarettesmokeandexyracquets blog, blood tw, gore tw, monster!neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 10:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsstainedbloodred/pseuds/lipsstainedbloodred
Summary: A late night phone call will change everything Andrew Minyard knows about Neil Josten.





	Terrible Creatures

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted Oct. 20, 2017 on cigarettesmokeandexyracquets

Andrew answers his phone to Neil quietly saying, “I need your help.” It’s past three in the morning, far too early to be awake, and Andrew sighs, already dragging himself out of bed.

“What did you do?” Andrew asks. He’s already in a t-shirt and sweat pants, he just needs his wallet, keys, and shoes which are all conveniently next to the front door. Neil is silent for too long so Andrew says firmly, “Neil, what did you do.”

“I had an accident,” Neil says, breath hitching and if Andrew didn’t know any better he’d think Neil was crying.

Andrew’s heart pounds too quick in his chest, the implications that those words bring too mind are far too great for his overactive imagination. “What kind of accident?”

“I’m in that abandoned building between Lawnmont and Belle Avenue,” Neil says instead of giving an explanation, “Do you know where that’s at?”

“Yes, across from the bad Waffle House,” Andrew says, sliding on his shoes and walking out the door with his keys in hand.

Neil snorts something that might have been a laugh on a better night and then sobers immediately, “Andrew, can you hurry?”

Andrew’s heart skips a beat and then stutters to catch up, “I’ll be there in five.”

“Okay,” Neil says and hangs up.

Andrew jogs over to the Maserati and unlocks the doors, tossing his phone into the passenger seat. He doesn’t bother with his seat belt, peeling out of the parking lot and running red lights without thinking about it. There’s fear spiking in his chest and Andrew hates it, hates Neil for doing this to him when they should both be in bed and not wandering the streets of Columbia at three in the morning. He whips into a nearby parking lot and cuts the engine, barely remembering to lock the doors behind him as he makes his way to the side entrance of an old office building. He remembers suddenly that he left his arm bands at home, his knives still sitting innocently in their sheaths, and the thought puts a scowl on his face. 

He’s walking into this blind with no protection other than his fists and thinks,  _this is what happens when you let someone get to close_. The door is locked but a rough jiggle of the handle and a couple of firm shoves with his shoulder forces the door open with a low groan. 

It’s not hard to find Neil, what is hard is the scene that lays in front of him. Neil is covered in blood, his hands and mouth most of all but his shirt is stained through and his pants are spattered with it. Blood covers the floor and splashes up the walls in vicious arcs, the smell of copper and urine tinge the air.

Neil is kneeling over a body, or what remains of a body. Limbs have been ripped off by some kind of animal, deep gouging claw marks have torn the torso wide open, exposing bone and entrails. The head is decapitated from the body laying several feet away and so blood soaked and ruined that there are no distinguishing features. Neil had looked up when Andrew had shoved the door open and Neil doesn’t look away from him now. His eyes are solid black, his mouth a misshapen thing with horrible teeth turned red from blood and gore, his nails turned to awful looking talons.

Andrew on a good day prides himself on having an iron stomach and nerves of steel; but Andrew at three am, in shock and in disbelief, takes two steps to the side and throws up on the floor.

“Andrew,” Neil says and it sounds both like and unlike Neil is disorienting fashion.

Andrew can’t make himself look at Neil, hands clenched into fists at his sides to mask their trembling. It’s harder to make his breath steady and his heart pounds rabbit quick against his rib cage. “Neil, what the fuck?” He spits out once he can.

“I had an accident,” Neil says like he did over the phone, “I was hungry.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Andrew breathes, or maybe thinks, or maybe shouts. He’s not sure. Nothing is sure and everything is blurred and awful.

“Andrew, look at me,” Neil says.

Andrew doesn’t, he can’t.

“Andrew,” Neil says, sounding wounded, “Andrew look at me.”

Andrew grits his teeth against his roiling stomach and looks. Neil’s hands have returned to their normal state, though blood and bits of entrails still trail its way up his forearms. His mouth is normal again too, his eyes back to their normal icy blues.

“I was hungry,” Neil says with that breath hitch again, like he might start crying, “I didn’t want to hurt you so I went for a run. He started following me, I tried to ignore it but I was so hungry Andrew.”

“I can’t do this,” Andrew says, “Jesus Neil.”

“You can,” Neil says insistently, “I need your help.”

Andrew grits his teeth and hopes against hope that he’s dreaming. That this is some god awful nightmare his subconscious has cooked up and he’ll wake up to his Neil, not this bastardized monster of a man in front of him. He wants that to be true, somehow he thinks it’s not.

“Andrew,” Neil says again.

“Stop,” Andrew says, his teeth grinding so hard he feels the pain in his temples, “Stop saying my name.”

“It was an accident,” Neil says again, “It won’t happen again.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” Andrew asks, clinging onto the remaining edge of his sanity, “I can’t fix this Neil.”

“Take me home,” Neil says, he’s wild eyed and flighty, “Just take me home and don’t let anyone see me.”

“Fuck,” Andrew says quietly. He turns and punches the wall, too much feeling for him to contain at once. “FUCK!” He screams and he’s slipping, he’s slipping.

He hears movement behind him and Neil is standing, too close to him for comfort. “Take me home,” Neil says again, “There are people I can call about the mess, but I’m too messed up to walk home.”

“You’re messed up alright,” Andrew says, “You’re a literal monster. What the fuck are you Neil?”

“Something my father made,” Neil says, “I’ll leave after tonight. You’ll never have to see me again, just take me home.”

This is the man Andrew had kissed a thousand times, the man that slept beside him at night and pulled him from his nightmares. He’d kissed the scars over that chest a hundred times, had the feel of him under his hand memorized. Andrew felt tainted and dirty and betrayed and distinctly remembered the thought he’d had after the first time he’d kissed Neil.  _Enjoy it Minyard, you never get to keep good things for long._  And wasn’t that the fucking truth, he thought now, staring at Neil’s blood soaked mouth and the tears clinging to his too long lashes. 

“I should kill you myself and be done with it,” Andrew says.

“You should,” Neil agrees, “but I’ve already tried.”

Andrew turns and heads out the door he came in, holding it open in the only invitation he’ll give Neil right now. He hears Neil’s footsteps behind him and doesn’t repress the shiver crawling up his spine. He doesn’t look at Neil in the car and he doesn’t look at him when they pull up in the drive. He doesn’t look at Neil when they enter the house, nor when Neil splits off toward the bathroom.

Andrew walks into his bedroom and locks the door behind himself, not that he’s sure it will do much good. He pulls on his arm bands and holds the weight of his knives against his chest. He can still taste the bile in his mouth and he closes his eyes against it. 

After a long time the shower cuts off and Andrew hears Neil pad out into the hallway. Neil doesn’t try to open the door to Andrew’s room, nor does he attempt to knock or speak to Andrew, he just keeps walking.

Andrew tears his clothes off and buries them deep into his clothes hamper, sliding on new pajamas that still smell like laundry soap and not like sweat and fear. He climbs into bed and doesn’t remember falling asleep.

Andrew wakes the next morning to find his bedroom door unlocked and his arm bands missing. He feels a spike of new terror shooting through his limbs and doesn’t remember opening the door or removing his sheaths after he’d put them on. 

The radio is playing in the kitchen, something jazzy and upbeat and he can hear Neil singing along to it. Neil who should not still be in his house let alone in his kitchen. Andrew grits his teeth, angry and terrified, and pulls himself out of bed. He makes himself go to the kitchen and sees Neil swaying along to the radio, chopping up potatoes and throwing them into a frying pan.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Andrew asks bluntly.

Neil turns and cocks a head at him in confusion, “What?”

“You’re supposed to be gone,” Andrew says, his voice dipping into that dark anger that’s always just within reach in his core.

“What are you talking about?” Neil asks, sounding helplessly confused.

“After last night,” Andrew says, but he’s starting to feel sticky with uncertainty, “You said if I brought you home that you’d leave and not come back.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Neil asks, his tone shifting from confusion to concern. “I kept waking up last night so I slept on the couch.” Neil motions to the living room and when Andrew peeks around the corner he sees the pillow and blankets on the couch still rumbled from a body laying on them.

Relief trickles through Andrew’s body like warm rain. It’s not unusual for him to have vivid nightmares, and with it being so close to November his brain was due to give him something awful to come back with. Andrew is about to turn around say something about Neil’s stupid face giving him nightmares when he spots something by the door. 

A pair of shoes, Neil’s running shoes, with blood smeared up the side. Andrew hears a shift behind him and the stove clicking off, the radio still singing merrily in the background. When Andrew turns around Neil’s eyes are black and his smile is death.


End file.
